Lilly always loved stories
by Eli Mae
Summary: Angst fluff ending R&R?


I.

Lilly always loved stories…

His kisses were filled with need, want, _longing_.  
She ran home whenever he called, her coworkers called her a whore, but they didn't understand, they rarely saw each other, and forbidden love is shown in the most primitive of ways.

She saw him and whispered three words, he whispered them back as he threw her onto the bed, her scrubs a thought of the past.  
All she felt was love, she knew that it wasn't right, he couldn't love her, she couldn't love him, it wasn't right, it went against all they knew, all they believed in.

It was so wrong, so_so_**so** wrong.  
But god did it feel _right._

II.

He couldn't love or **f**e**e**l no matter how much he wanted to, he didn't know exactly what this feeling was, but he knew he liked it.

The feeling of her beneath him, moaning his name, writing in pleasure at the smallest of his touches.  
She made him whole, something nothing else in the world had achieved, and he's been alive for _centuries_.

III.  
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He's never there the morning after.

And sometimes she wonders if he really does love her, or if he is just using her as a tool to rebel.

She thought about leaving him, about not answering the calls, she talked with her friends about him (she was a girl after all), demand to know more about him, but when he calls, all of these thoughts fly out the door.  
After all you never want to mess with a good thing.

IV.  
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He has to leave after.  
He can't let her see him like this, all of his conflicting emotions.

Horrified, at his actions.

Disgusted, at his lack of self-control.

Worried, about what loving him was going to do to her.

Caring, as he kisses her forehead before he leaves, vowing to never come back, he couldn't handle what she did to him.  
She made him _feel_.

V.

Sometimes. He shows up at her door, bleeding, hurt, confused.

He lets her wash his wounds, cooing over his scars.  
Gasping at the long deep gashes on his back.  
She always pulls his head to her chest and rocks him back and forth. Whispering words of comfort in his ear.

His favorite is when she sings to him.

That night they fall asleep in each other's arms, her song still ringing in his head.

VI.  
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He never left _directly_ after, he always stayed to talk, he was actually interested in her, in her thoughts, in what she does, in what she feels.

She once asked him why they never talk about him.

He suddenly had to leave.

She only knows a few things about him; she only knew what Bobby Singer told her.

He was courageous, wonderful, an idjit, angelic.

Bobby Singer told her everything she needed to know about him, alone, out in his house, she visited him once a day, bringing food, medicine, he always complained that he could do it himself, but he still took it, grumbling as he ate whatever meal she had brought that day.

He was a crazy old man, torn by the death of his wife years before, and he taught her about supernatural things, ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons, _angels_, she believes that last one as much as she believes in the tooth fairy and unicorns.  
But mostly he talks about the Winchesters, telling her amazing stories of their bravery of their lives, and she covets these stories most of all.  
"Don't know why I put up with you." He says every time she comes over, then he takes a bite.

Bobby Singer loved her like the daughter he never had.

VII.

One day, she's driving in to see Bobby, its Friday, which means apple pie and chicken, when she sees the men.

One tall and brunet, brooding over Bobby.

The other shorter and sandy haired, he's shaking his hands angrily at Bobby.  
She jumps out of her car and runs to them.  
"Bobby? What's going on?" She puts her hand on his shoulder, he reaches up and grasps her hand.  
"You should go home sweetheart. There's no place for you in this mess." She scowls stubbornly setting her jaw.  
"If it has to do with you, then it has to do with me."

Bobby sighs and introduces the men as the Winchesters.

VIII.

The boys are obnoxious.

They make themselves right at home and she can tell the taller one, Sam, makes Bobby nervous.

She has to cook twice as much for them, clean more, and (even though it goes against her moral code), buy more booze then ever before.

The short one, who Bobby introduced as Dean, is always making sexual jokes to her, mostly when he's drunk, and she's surprised that his cheek isn't cherry red from where she slaps him.

But she puts up with them,

Because their Bobby's _family_.

IX.

She decides to be a part of their game one night, she drinks with them, and laughs harder then she has in a long time.

"So," Dean slurs, drunker then usual, "Bobby tells me your fuckin' my Cas."  
Blushing she drops her beer, looking at Bobby, he won't look her in the eye.  
"I'm not _mad_. I mean it's about time he got himself a bootyca-" Her bottle smacks him in the chest and she runs out the door.  
Behind her she hears Bobby's wheels moving. "Lilly! He didn't mean it! He's drunk! We all are! Lilly…" His voice drowns out as she gets in her car, driving away into the night.  
She knew those boys were bad news.

X.  
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She doesn't answer her phone when it's Bobby, and eventually he gives up.

After 2 weeks of non-stop calling he gives up.  
She listens to her voicemail.  
_"Lilly_, _Cas_ _is lookin' for ya, he says you wont answer his calls, he's worried sweetheart, and I am too. Just call me back okay? Cas is here and he wants to talk to you. I miss your cooking."_ He hangs up after a silence. He's given up on her.  
And that's what breaks her the most.

XI.  
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A week later he's at her door. Knocking asking her to let him in.  
She sits against the door and cries. Telling him all that she's felt since she met him, how much she loves him, how much she hates him, how it kills her every morning when he isn't there, how even though she's known him for at least 5 months he wont tell her anything about himself, she feels horrible that she shouldn't be bothering him with this, how she thinks Dean is right.  
Suddenly the door is unlocked and she's in his arms. He's rocking her back and forth, comforting her, saying how sorry he is; he didn't know she felt that way.  
He lies with her in her bed and tonight is the first night he hums her a lullaby.  
She falls asleep, the sound of his voice still in her head.

XII.  
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In the morning he's still there.  
She asks him who he really is.  
And he tells her.  
She listens contently and finds herself in awe.  
She's in love with an Angel. A _real live_ Angel of the Lord.

XIII.

Lilly always loved stories, especially when they were _true_.


End file.
